A! 

Ai 

Oj 
Oj 
1  I 

41 
2\ 

4i 
5! 

01 
7  = 


mm 


— t 


PR 

5189 

P3D4 


A 


FRENCH'S 

iS.M  ERIO^jNT    r)RA.M:A.. 

Srije  Slctiitfi  ISDitioH. 
No.  LIX 


DEAF   AS    A   POST. 


A   FARCE,    IN   ONE    ACT. 


T.  POOLE,  ESQ. 


To   TTHICH   ARE    ADDED, 

A  I)«8cription  of  the  Costume — Cast  of  the  Characters— Entrances  and  ^ziU 

— Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and  the 

•whole  of  the  Stage  Business,  as  performed  at 

THE    NEW    YORK    THEATRES. 


NEW- YORK : 
SAMUEL    FRENCH, 

121    NASSAU- STREET. 


ffiast  of  t!)c  ©Ijai-actctB, 
As  Performed  at  the  New  York  Theatrea. 

Mr.  Walton Mr.  Moore.  *■ 

Tristram  Sappy      -        -        .        _        .  "   Burton. 

Captain  Templeton  .        .        -        _  *'   E.  Jordan. 

Crupper  "   Russell. 

Gallo/  - "    Gourley. 

r,.      •---'--  "   Lawson. 

KecruUs  ^ 

"    Paul. 


1 


Miss  Sophy  Walton       ...        -         Miss  Miller. 
Miss  Amy  Templeton    -        -        -        -        Miss  Florence. 
Mrs.  Plumply       -  Miss  Annie  Waltera. 

Sally  Mags  -         -        -        .         -        Mrs.  Burton. 

Scene  lies  at  Wiridicsler — at  ihe  Bell  Inn. 
Time  of  Representation,  one  hour. 


STAGE  DIRECTIONS. 


EXITS    AND    ENTRANCES. 

R.  means  Right  ;  L.  Left ;  F.  the  Flat,  or  Scene  running  across 
the  hack  of  the  Stage  ;  D.  F.  Door  in  Flat ;  R.  D.  Right  Door ;  L. 
D.  Left  Door :  S.  E.  Second.  Entrance  ;  U.  E.  Upper  Entrance ;  M. 
D.  Middle  Door. 

RELATIVE    POSITIONS. 

R.  means  Right;  L.  Left;  C.  Centre;  R.  C.  Right  of  Centre; 
L.  C.  Left  of  Centre. 

R.  RC.  C.  LC.  L. 

*♦*  The  Reader  is  supposed  to  he  on  the  Stage,  facing  the 
Audic7ice. 


UBRAKY 
SAZSTA  BARBARA 


«8»tumc— J«o!7et». 


DEAF  AS  A  POST. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — Two  doors  in  f. — A  pxtUic  room  of  the  Bell  Inn — Bar 
on  R. — In  centre  a  table,  at  which  Old  Walton  and  Sappy  are 
playing  whist.  Waiters  crossing  stage  in  front  in  great  bustle. 
Bells  ringing  r.  and  l. 

Enter  Mrs.  Pldmply,  l. 

Mrs.  P.  \Miy  John — Williani — Gregory — every  waiter  in  at- 
tendance, and  nobody  to  come  near  me,  but  Sally  Mags  the  chamber- 
maid. Exit  into  Bar,  r. 

Wal.  (l.)  The  noise  has  put  me  out. — We'll  have  done  with 
cards. 

Sap.  (r.)  And  I  was  nine — That's  the  way  you  always  serve 
me,  when  I'm  near  winning,  and  I  don't  like  it. 

Wal.  [Rising.']  Tristram,  the  merest  trifle  puts  you  out  of  temper. 
Fou  are  soon  to  marry  my  daughter  Sophy,  and  it's  my  duty  to  tell 
you. 

Sap.  It  isn't  your  duty  to  tease  a  young  man  who  is  his  own 
master,  and  I've  no  notion  of  being  teased.  I  wish  she  and 
t'other  young  lady  would  come,  tho' — It's  getting  late,  and  I  don't 
like  it. 

Wal.  They  can't  arrive  before  the  coach  comes  in.  Your  impa- 
tience is  natural  enough  though,  you  rogue  ! 

Sap.  Natural  !  to  be  sure  it  is  natural — supper  is  ordered 
for  ten  o'clock  ;  and  if  they  don't  come  in  time,  it  will  be  done  to 
rags. 

Wal.  Why,  you  are  a  wag,  Mr.  Sappy. 

Sap.  Ay,  to  be  sure  I  am.  Why  I  pass  for  the  cleverest  fellow 
in  all  Winchester. 

Wal.  Winchester,  I  take  it,  cannot  be  a  very  populous  town. 

Sap.  Now,  that's  meant  as  a  joke  against  me,  and  I  don't  like  it. 
I  tell  you,  they  call  me  now,  the  wit  of  Winchester.  It's  only 
since  my  journey  to  Lunnun  tho',  for  before  that  I  was  no  better 
than  a  numskull. 


DEAF    AS    A   1»0ST.  9 

Wal.  Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Sap.  You  may  laugh,  if  you  like,  but  I  was  looked  on  as  the 
greatest  ass  in  our  town.  But,  one  way  or  t'other,  it  cost  me  a 
mint  of  money  to  get  one's  self  made  sensible. — I  spent  no  less 
than  fifty  pounds  in  three  months.  That  set  me  a  thinking,  and 
thinks  I,  I've  sense  enough  ;  so  I'm  oft"  says  I,  ha  !  ha  ! — Old 
Walton,  meaning  you,  has  promised  me  his  daughter  Sophy  for  a 
wife.  I'll  back  to  Winchester,  and  get  ready  to  marry — ha  !  ha  ! 
Old  Walton  shall  come  down,  and  see  my  property,  before  we  sign 
and  seal  :  and — here  you  are — ha !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Wal.  Well,  really,  your  wit  overflows.  I  begin  to  perceive  that 
my  intended  son-in-law  is  an  idiot.  lAside: 

Enter  Mrs.  Plumply, //om  Bar,  e. 
Wal.  Mrs.  Plumply,  we  shall  saunter  before  your  door,  in  expec- 
tation of  the  London  coach ;  and  I'll  be  obliged  if  you'll  have  the 
room  ready  for  my  daughter  and  the  other  young  lady,  on  their  ar 
rival. 

Mrs.  P.  It  shall  be  taken  care  of,  sir.  Here,  Sally,  Sally 
Mags  ! 

Enter  S.iLLV,  from  Bar,  r. 

Salhj.  Here  I  am,  ma'am  ;  I  was  just  coming  when  I  heard  you 
call ;  and  says  I — I  dare  say,  says  I,  now  misses  calls  Sally  Mags, 
says  I. 

Mrs.  P.  Never  mind  what  you  said.  Here's  the  key  of  No.  19 
and  be  sure  you  have  it  ready  for  the  two  young  ladies,  who  will 
arrive  presently  by  the  Defiance. 

Sap.  And,  Mrs.  Plumply.  you'll  come  the  genteel  thing  in  tlie 
supper.  Seven  shillings  a-head  for  four  is  a  long  price,  you  know. 
You  won't  take  any  advantage,  because  I've  agreed  before- 
hand 1 

Mrs.  P.  An  advantage,  sir — Sir,  since  I  have  been  mistress  of 
the  Bell. 

Sap.  No,  no — only  I  mean — I  say,  father-in-law,  I've  ordered 
supper  at  seven  shillings  per  head.  You  insisted  on  my  standinor 
treat,  and  as  I  like  to  do  things  in  style — only  I  mean,  thai  for  7s. 
a  head — one  ought  to  have  sumnuit,  you  know  [Addressed  to  Mrs. 
I'. — then  to  himself. '\ — Four  times  seven  are  twenty-eight;  and  four 
glasses  of  Negu.s,  at — Sally,  you'll  lay  the  cloth  in  the  parlor  next 
to  my  bed-room,  because  when  I  give  a  supper  to  a  private  party,  I 
like  to  be  private,  and  because  I  like — that  is,  because  I  don't  like — ■ 
twenty-eight,  and  four  shilling  glasses  of  Negus,  at  a  shilling  each 
^twenty-eight  and  four. 

Salli/.  And  is  that  all  you've  got  to  say,  sir? 

Sap.  Oh  !  oh,  no — and  mind  you  warm  my  bed — [Counting  his 
fingers.] — Don't  forger,  Sally — warm  it  well  with  a  brass  warming 
pan. 


O  DEAF   AS    A    rOST. 

Sally.  I'll  not  forget  any  thing  while  you  stay  here,  sir :  and 
when  you  go  away,  I  hope  your  memory  will  f  rove  as  good  as 
mine. 

Sap.  Come,  that  is  well  said,  ha  !  ha !  Hang  me  now,  but  that 
deserves — \_Puts  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  crosses  to  l.]  Come, 
father-in-law,  let's  go  down  for  the  coach.  \_Exit,  l. 

Wal.  Most  decidedly,  my  intended  son-in-law  is  an  ass — an  ill- 
tempered,  supercilious,  conceited  block-head.  But  I.  fear  I've  en- 
gaged too  far  with  him  to  retract. 

Sap.  [Without,  e.]  Come,  father-in-law. 

Wal.  Coming,  fool.  \_Exit,  l. 

Sally.  Dear  me,  ma'am.  Mr.  Sappy  seems  a  very  stupid  gentle- 
man— I  pity  the  young  lady  that  is  to  be  his  wife ;  for  if  I  was  a- 
going  to  be  married  myself,  I  know  that 

Mrs.  P.  You  know  nothing  about  the  matter,  child — he's  a  fool, 
to  be  sure,  but  a  rich  foci ;  and  a  husband  like  Mr.  Sappy  is — \^Bcll 
rings,  Sally  going,  l.]  Now,  where  are  you  running!  Be  sure 
not  to  let  in  another  i-oul  to-night  for  love  or  money,  except 
those  two  young  ladies.  "  The  house  is  full,"  is  the  answer  to  all 
coiners. 

Sally.  And  well  may  I  eay  so,  for  from  the  parlors  to  the  gar- 
ret, there  isn't  a  corner  in  the  house  big  enough  to 

Mrs.  P.  Well,  chatter,  chatter,  chatter.  iBell.J  Go  see  who 
rings.  [Exit  Sally,  l.]  That  girl  does  nothing  but  click,  clack, 
click,  clack,  from  morning  to  ni^'lit. 

Re-enter  Sally,  ushering  in  Sophy  and  Amy,  l. 

Mrs.  P.  This  way,  ladies,  if  you  please. 

Sally. _  This  way,  if  you  pleases,  ladies — take  care  of  the  little 
step  at  the  door.  Will  you  please  to  sit  down,  ladies  ]  you've  had 
a  long  journey—  and 

Mrs.  r.  [_Puts  Sally  aside."]  Sally,  will  you  please  to  hold  your 
tongue  1  Would  you  please  tho  trunks  to  be  taken  up  to  your 
chamber,  ladies  1 

Sophy.  If  you  please,  ma'am,  as  we  have  left  my  father,  Mr, 
Walton,  below,  seeing  them  safe  out  of  the  coach. 

Mrs.  P.  I'm  glad  you  are  arrived,  ladies,  that  you  may  take  pos- 
tession  of  your  apartment.  I've  sent  away  at  least  twenty  travel- 
er«  to-day,  and 

Sally.  Twenty,  ma'am  1  dear  me,  ma'am,  you  might  say  forty, 
Jind  never  tell  a  bit  of  a  fib.  I'm  certain  sure,  that  up  to  dinner 
.inie  alone 

Mrs.  P.  Sally  Mags,  will  you  be  quiet  1  And  just  nov,  as  you 
arrived,  I  was  obliged  to  turn  away  a  young  gentleman^  who  ap- 
peared so  vexed. 

Amy.  \^Aside.'\  'Twas  he,  perhaps — 

Mrs.  P.  Ladies  I'll  step  and  sec  that  your  room  is  in  order  for 


DEAF    AS    A    POST.  7 

your  reception:  iCrosscs  to  r.]  come,  Sally — I've  a  great  mind  to 
fasten  the  door,  and  not  let  another  soul  in  or  out  this  blessed 
night.  [Exeunt  Sally  and  Mrs.  P.,  r. 

Sophij.  •'  'Twas  he,  perhaps."  Ha !  ha !  ha !  so  then  a  young 
gentleman  cannot  apply  for  lodging  at  an  inn  in  Winchester,  but  it 
needs  be  your  swain,  Forester,  whom  we  left  in  London. 

Amy.  Why  not !  or  why  may  it  not  have  been  yours,  my  brother, 
Templetoni  I  am  persuaded,  that  one  of  them  has  preceded  us  on 
the  road — perhaps  both. 

Sophy.  So  you  have  said  before — and  for  no  better  reason,  than, 
that  the  people  of  the  inns  where  we  stopt,  treated  us  with  more 
attention  than  the  other  travellers. 

Amy.  And  what  attention !  Refreshments  prepared  and  set 
apart  for  us — a  reluctance  to  receive  even  the  ordinary  remunera- 
tion which — it  must  be  so,  and  I  am  convinced,  that  they  are  not 
far  from  us  at  this  moment. 

Bell  rings,  l.     Enter  S.\lly,  r.,  crosses,  and  exit,  l. 

Sophy.  Ay,  my  dear  Amy.  you  have  a  shrewd  head  at  guessing. 
Come,  now,  guess  if  you  can,  my  father's  motive  for  sending  nic 
from  London.  Here  is  his  letter ;  and  though  Tve  read  it  twenty- 
times,  I  am  unable  to  undorotand  it.  [Reads.]  ''  My  dear  Sophy,  I 
have  seen  the  estate  you  told  me  of;  it  pleases  me,  and  has  induced 
me  to  conclude  an  affair,  which  deeply  concerns  you." — Deeply 
concerns  me — that  it  is  tliat  puzzles  me. — "  Set  off  instantly  for  the 
Bell  inn,  Winchester,  where  you  will  find  me.  Perhaps,  your 
friend,  Miss  Templeton,  will  accompany  you." 

Amy.  Nothing  can  be  clearer — the  all'air  which  concerns  you, 
must  be  marriage — the  husband — O,  my  brother,  Charles  Temple- 
ton,  of  course  ;  and  the  estate  in  question,  he  intends  to  settle  on 
you,  as  a  marriage  portion. 

Sophy.  Very  clear,  indeed,  except  that  my  father  never  saw  your 
brother  in  his  life,  and  never  heard  him  mentioned,  I  believe,  but 
by  my  aunt,  at  whose  house,  at  Bath,  I  first  met  him. 

Amy.  True — I  was  thinking 

Sophy.  More  of  Forester,  than  of  your  brother,  or  me,  or  the 
letter  I  have  been  reading  to  you. 

Enter  SM.L.r,  followed  hy  Gallop,  l. 

Sally.  Now,  ladies,  when  you  please,  your  room  is  ready.  Pve 
set  every  thing  in  order — it's  a  double  bedded  room,  ladies — the 
best  in  the  house.  No.  19 — No.  22  is  the  next  best — but  f  said  lo 
misses,  "  ma'am,"  says  I,  "  I'm  sure  the  young  ladies  who  are 
coming" 

Gal.  Well,  Miss  Mags,  when  you've  said  your  say,  I'll  say  mine. 

Sally.  Dear  me,  I  forgot — here's  Gallo[) — Gallop,  ladies,  trots  on 
errands  for  all  W  mchester ;  and  he  came  to  me,  and  said,  says 
he" 


8  DKAF    AS    A    POST. 

Gal.  Will  you  let  me  do  my  own  work,  Sally  1  If  you  be  the 
young  laJics,  as  came  by  liie  coach  from  London,  I've  a  letter  for 
one  of  you.  \_Gi\jcs  (he  letter  to  Amy. 

Amy.  A  letter  without  an  address.     Who  gave  it  to  youl 

Gal.  Told  not  to  tell,  miss — couldn't  if  I  would — not  knowing. 

Ami/.  ITo  Sophy.]  But,  ought  we  to  receive  itl 

Sophy.  Why,  it  is  but  a  letter — there  can  be  no  harm  in  a  letter. 

Gal.  Never  fear,  miss ;  no  harm  ever  com'd  of  a  letter  of  my 
delivering.  If  I  ever  carry  a  challenge,  it's  sure  never  to  come  to 
a  fight. 

Sally.  Yes,  and  Gallop  gets  all  the  jobs  in  that  way,  ladies. 

Amy.  Are  you  paid,  my  good  man  ! 

Gal.  Why,  miss,  I  can't  say  no ;  but,  in  thi.?  world,  there  are 
letter  readers  as  well  as  letter  writers,  you  know,  ladies. 

Amy.  There,  [Givi?!^  money. ~\  will  that  content  ye^ 

Gal.  Bless  j-our  handsome  faces  ;  I  hope  you'll  be  as  well  pleased 
with  the  letter  as  I  am  with  the  postage.  [Exit  Gallop,  l 

Amy.  Let's  see  the  contents,  "  Fair  travellers," — 'tis  meant  for 
both  of  us.  "  Whatever  may  happen,  hear,  see,  and  say  nothing. 
Beware  of  betraying  surprise.  You'll  know  why,  hereafter."  No 
signature. 

Sophy.  "  Hear,  see,  and  say  nothing."  Do  you  know  the  writ- 
ing \ 

Amy.  No,  'tis  evidently  a  counterfeit  hand.  But,  come,  I'm  dis- 
posed to  follow  its  advice,  and  wait  the  solution  of  the  enigma. 

Sophy.  Well,  let's  arrange  our  dress  a  little,  after  the  journey. 
[To  S.vLLV.]  You'll  inform  my  father,  Mr.  Walton,  that  we  shall 
be  with  him  presently. 

Saltij.  I  will,  ladies. — Misses  says  I'm  an  eternal  chatterer — that 
may  be,  or  may  not  be.  but  she  can't  say  that  I'm  wanting  in  at- 
tention to  the  guests,  for  since  here  I  have  been,  and,  come  Easter, 
it  will  be" 

Sophy.  Well,  my  dear,  show  us  our  room ;  and  here's  for  your 
pains.  [Gives  money. 

Sally.  Thank'ee,  miss,  thank'ee — it  isn't  for  what  one  gets,  but 
when  any  thing  is  given  to  one — that  way,  ladies,  you  will  be 
waited  on  like  princesses.  You  have  only  to  touch  the  bell,  or,  go 
to  the  stair  head,  and  call  "  Sally,  Sally  Mags,"  and  you'll  tind  mo 
at  your  elbow,  like  magic.  [Exeunt,  Sophv  and  Amy,  l.]  Bless  'era, 
if  either  of  'em  is  to  be  Mrs.  Sappy,  I  shall  break  my  heart,  as  if  it 
was  my  own  case, — [Calls. '[ — coming,  ladies.  [Exit  Sally,  k 

Enter  Mrs.  Plumply, /rom  Bar,  r. 

Mrs.  P.  Well,  Mr.  Sappy  may  be  as  rich  as  Croesus,  but,  if 
I  ever  met  with  sp  complete  a  fool — ah,  if  either  of  these  young 
ladies  is  doomed  to  be  his  wife,  I  pity  her  from  the  bottom  of  my 
soul 


DEAF    AS    A    POST.  V 

During  Ihis  speech,  TexMpleton  enters  l.  d.  in  flat,  and  seats  himself, 
L.  of  table,  icith  newspaper. 

Mrs.  P.  BIpss  me,  who  is  that  gentleman  1  Did  he  drop  from 
the  clouds  1     \Miat  is  it  you  desire  ! 

Temp.  No,  thank'ee,  ma'am  ;  don't  light  a  fire  on  my  account. 
I  beer  you  won't  put  yourself  in  the  least  out  of  the  way. 

Airs.  F.  I  suppose,  sir,  you  wish  to  put  up  here  for  the  night? 

Temp.  Oh  no,  he  can  hardly  be  here  to-night ;  but,  I  dare  say, 
ho'U  arrive  in  time  to  breakfast  with  me,  to-morrow  morning. 

[  Continues  reading: 

Mrs.  P.  What  the  deuce  does  he  mean  1  Why,  Crupper — Ost- 
ler ! 

Enter  Crupper,  l.  d.,  in  f.  , 

Who  is  this  gentleman  1     Where  does  he  come  from "!     Is  he  mad  1 

Crup.  No,  ma'am — not  mad — only,  uncommonly  thick  of  hearing. 

Mrs.  P.  But  how  came  he  here] 

Crup.  Why,  he  rode  into  the  yard,  and  got  off  his  horse,  which 
was  a  bay  mare,  and  handed  her  to  me — "'  Sir,"  says  I,  "  we  have 
no  room,  to-night,  neither  for  man  nor  beast." 

Mrs.  P.  That  was  right.     Well 

Crup.  So  his  answer  to  that  was — ha  !  ha  !  "  Half  a  peck  of 
oats,  and  I'll  find  my  way  to  the  house  without  you."  Then  I  told 
him,  I'd  speak  to  my  mistress. 

Mrs.  P.  Ay,  speak  to  mistress.     What  did  he  say  to  that  1 

Crup.  He  said — "Hub  her  down  well,  my  lad,"  tipt  me  half 
a  crown,  and  was  off.     So  I'm  come  to  know  what  I'm  to  do. 

Mrs.  P.  Well,  if  there  is  a  stall  for  the  horse,  you  may  let  it  re- 
main. 

Crup.  There's  room  for  the  mare,  ma'am  ;  she's  as  fine  a  roadster 
as  ever  was  cross'd — and,  the  half  crown's  a  new  one. 

[Exit  Crupper,  l.  d.  in  F. 

Mrs.  P.  So,  there  he  is  perfectly  at  home.  'Tis  a  pity  he  should 
be  so  deaf,  for  he  seems  quite  the  gentleman.  Ay,  and  a  handsome 
one  too.  However,  I  must  make  him  understand  he  must  go.  \Vcry 
loud.}  Sir,  I'm  very  sorry,  but,  my  house  is  full  on  account  of  the 
assizes. 

Temp.  I'm  sorry,  too,  madam,  for,  I  fear  it  will  go  hard  with  him. 
His  trial  stands  second  on  the  list,  I  find. 

Mrs.  F.  I  have  no  accommodation  for  you,  and  request  you'll  go 
away. 

Temp.  Thank'ee,  thank'ee  ;  you  are  the  prettiest  landlady  in  all 
Winchester;  and  while  I  stay  in  the  town,  I'll  make  this  house  my 
home.  [Jicads  on. 

Mrs.  P.  [Clearing  her  throat.]  Ahem!  He'll  never  hear  me, 
though  I  bawl  myself  hoarse.  Well,  he's  a  civil  spoken  gentleman, 
at  any  rate,  so  he'll  not  be  in  any  one's  wav  here  for  the  present, 
and 


10  DEAF    AS    A    1>0ST. 

Enter  Sappy,  l. 

Hap.  Mrs.  Plumply,  are  we  to  wait  all  night  for  supper  1  IdonY 
understand  this  treatment.  I  pay  my  money,  and  I  expect  atlun 
tion  ;  do  you  understand  that,  Mrs.  Plumply  ! 

3[rs.  F.  Pray,  have  a  little  patience,  sir  ;  Pm  so  hurried,  I  Lardly 
know  which  way  to  turn. 

Sap.  A  great  misfortune,  to  be  sure.  It  doesn't  bring  grist  to 
the  mill.  I  suppose  you'll  be  money  in  your  pocket  by  me,  won't 
you^ 

Mrs.  P.  'Tis  money  hardly  earned,  lAside']  to  be  at  the  orders  of 
such  vulgar  fools  as  this.     Sally  !   Sally  ! — 

Sap.  So  it  is,  he  !  he  !  she's  making  a  fortune,  and  she  is  to  be 
pitied,  poor  thing. 

Enter  Sally,  r. 

,     Mrs.  P.  Let  Mr.  Sappy's  supper  be  served  immediately. 

Sap.  Come,  miss,  stir  your  stumps,  and  do  as  you  are  bid. 

Sally.  Lord,  sir,  I  can't  be  in  two  places  at  once,  unless  I  was  a 
bird.  There  isn't  half  so  much  fuss  when  one  has  the  corporation 
dinner  to  serve. 

Sap.  That's  right,  answer. — I  can't  bear  to  be  answered  by  ser- 
vants ;  it's  impertinent,  damn'd  impertinent.  I  advise  you 
not  to  answer  when  a  gentleman  speaks  to  you  ;    I  don't  like  it» 

Sally.  I  never  do  answer  when  a  gentleman  speaks  to  me. 

^Crosses  l. 

Sap.  Very  well,  very  well.  To-morrow  it  will  be,  "  please  to  re- 
member the  chamber-maid."  You  understand.  Come,  go  and 
hurry  the  cook. 

Sally.  Oh,  the  idiot !  if  it  wasn't  that  misses  would  be  angrj", 
Pd  put  as  pretty  a  bunch  of  slinging  nettles  into  his  bed  as  ever 
grew  by  a  wall  side.  [Exit  Sally,  l. 

Sap.  That  girl  is  what  I  call — by  the  by,  Mrs.  Plumply,  I 
don't  mean  to  give  wine  at  supper;  so,  if  the  old  gentleman  should 
call  for  it,  you  must  send  negus,  by  mistake — you  understand,  he ! 
he! 

Mrs.  P.  I  always  send  what  is  called  for,  sir. 

Sap.  O  you  do,  then  what  he  calls  for,  over  seven  shillings  a- 
head,  he  may  pay  for  ;  I  don't  stand  et  ceteras. 

Enter  Sally,  l.  d.,  in  f. 

Sally.  Now,  sir,  supper  is  ready,  and  you  may  go  to  your  friends, 
and  show  'cm  the  way  to  No.  11,  on  the  first  floor. 

Temp.  [Rising.]  "  No.  11,  on  the  first  floor,"  [.4s2<?e.]  and— — 

[Exit,  K.  D.  in  F 

Sap.  That's  right.  Now,  Mrs.  Plumply,  recollect  seven  shillings 
a-head ;  but,  I  can't  stand  your  whips  and  et  ceteras. 

Mrs.  P.  Ha !  ha  !  ha  ! 


DEAF   AS    A    POST.  11 

Sap,  Yon  may  laugh.  By  the  by,  do  you  know,  Mrs.  Plumply, 
yo;i're  a  devilish  pretty  woman  I   I  must  have  a  kiss. 

Mrs.  P.  Pray,  keep  your  distance,  sir. 

Sap.  Oh,  the  vixen  !  I  can  tell  you,  though,  I  love  all  the 
pretty  women  I  see,  ha  !    ha  !    and  they  all  love  me,  ha  !    ha  !    ha  ! 

Mrs.  P.  Very  likely  ;  but  I  don't  love  all  the  pretty  ineii  I 
see. 

Sap.  Oh  !  a  widow,  and  you  don't  fancy  the  human  species  ; — 
come,  that's  very  good.  Well,  I  must  join  my  party,  and  lead  them 
to  the  supper  room.  No.  11,  on  the  first  floor.  Remember, 
Mrs.  Plumply,  no  ct-ceteras. 

lE.tcuut,  Sappy,  l.,  Mrs.  Plumply,  r. 

SCENE  II. — A  Room,  loiih  a  Table  laid  for  supper  hi  front. — At 
the  R.,  a  table  covered  with  green  baize,  aiid  at  the  l.,  a  table  with 
writing  materials. — At  the  back  of  the  stage  is  a  flight  of  six  steps, 
leading  to  a  bed-room,  the  window  of  which  is  seen. —  Under  the 
window  stands  a  large,  old-fashioned  elbow  chair  — Templeton  dis- 
covered, L.,  sitting  at  the  supper  taJAc,  looking  over  the  memorandum 
book — Sally  a  few  paces  behind  him. 

Temp.  My  property,  in  Leifcestcrshire — five  thousand  annuity, 
two  thousand  pounds  in  my  banker's  hands  ;  fourteen  hundred 
which  my  agent  owes  me — but,  he  is  an  honest  debtor,  and 
I  can  aflbrd  to  wait  ;  I  see  no  reason  wliy  I  should  oppress 
him. 

Sail//.  There's  a  man  !  he's  as  good  as  he  is  rich,  I  suppose 
he's  an  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Sappy's  who  has  invited  him  to 
supper. 

Enter  Mrs.  Plumply,  r. 

Mrs.  P.  Now,  Sally,  I  hope  every  thing  is  right,  or  we  shall  have 
that  goose,  Mr.  Sappy,  tormenting  us  to  death.  But,  how  comes 
that  gentleman  here  ! 

Sal.li/.  Hush,  ma'am  !  don't  speak  to  him,  listen. 

Mrs.  P.   S[)eak  to  him,  indeed  !   not  I ;  he's  as  deaf  as  a  post. 

Sally.  Deaf !  poor  gentleman  !  young,  and  rich,  and  as  deaf  as  a 
post. 

Mrs.  P.  And  how  do  you  know  that  he  is  richi 

Sally.  Why,  ma'am,  he  has  been  reading  loud  out  of  that  little 
book,  and  he  talks  of  millions,  and  thousands  of  millions,  as  I'd 
talk  of  sixpence. 

Mrs.  P.  But,  he  musn't  remain  licrc.  Mr.  Sappy  has  enn-ao-cd 
Ihis  room,  and  when  he  finds 

Temp.   [Shutting  his  honk.]  Waiter! 

Sally.  Dear  me  !   he  buwLs,  for  all  the  world  like  a  deaf  body. 

[Placing  herself  near  him. 

Temp.  Wai — so,  so,  my  prcity  maid,  you  are  the  waiter.  Ajt 
"vhat  time  do  wg  sup,  my  dear  !  I* 


12  DEAF    AS    A    POST. 

Sally.  At  any  time  5'ou  please  to  order  your  supper,  sir.  You 
may  have  it  in  the  bar,  sir. 

Temp.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  No,  my  dear,  it  wasn't  that  I  said,  for  1 
see  you  are  a  pretty  girl,  but,  I  asked  you  when  supper  will  be 
ready.  \To  Mrs.  P.]  Your  little  maid  appears  rather  hard  of  hear- 
ing, ma'am. 

Mrs.  P.  Well,  Sally,  the  gentleman  finds  you  pretty,  and  that's 
all  you  care  he  should  understand. 

Sally.  His  eyes  are  better  than  his  ears,  at  any  rate. 

Enter  S.\ppy  and  Sophy,  Amy  and  "Walton,  l. 

Sap.  This  way,  this  way.  We've  a  private  room,  all  to  our- 
selves, that  we  may  be  private.  That  is  to  say,  the  room  we  are  to 
sup  in,  he  I   he  !  he ! 

Sophy.  [7'o  Amy.]  Good  heavens!  )    . 

Amy.  'Tis  Templcton,  hush  I  y     ^      '  •" 

Wal.  But  who  is  that  gentleman  turning  over  his  pocket  book  at 
our  table  !   he  does  not  perceive  we  are  here. 

[_Througliout  the  stipper  scene,  Sally  must  he  employed  in  placing 
and  removing  dishes,  aiid  in  running  in  and  out — she  may 
testify  by  her  by-play  that  she  is  pleased  and  amused  by  Sappy's 
sufferings. 

Sap.  Ay,  mistres.s,  what's  your  name,  who  is  that  strange  man  at 
my  table,  in  my  room  ] 

Mrs.  P.  A  very  extraordinary  person  ;  that's  all  I  know  of 
the  matter,  so  I'll  leave  you  to  manage  him,  if  you  can.      [Exit,  u. 

[^^'ALTON,  Sophy  and  Amy,  take  their  seats  at  table. — The  table 
is  completely  occupied,  when  Sappy  commences  his  speech  to 
Templeton. 

Sap.  That's  soon  done,  when.  I  say — [Going  behind  Templeton, 
a7id  lapping  him  on  the  shoulder.}  I  say,  mister,  this  isn't  a  pub- 
lic ordinary,  but  a  private  room  Tve  engaged  for  my  private 
party. 

Temp.  You  are  very  good,  and  I  thank  you,  sir :  but  travellers 
must  take  things  as  they  find  them  ;  besides,  I  cannot  think  of  tak- 
ing the  head  of  the  table. 

Sap.  Don"t  be  alarmed  about  that,  for  you'll  find  neither  heads 
hor  tails  for  you  here.  You  can't  stay  in  my  private  room,  so  bo 
cfT.     This  table  is  mine.  [Striking  it. 

Temp.  What,  sit  there  !  indeed,  I  am  very  well  where  I  am. 

Sap.  Very  well !  ay,  and  the  devil  thank  you.  Father-in-law,  I 
wish  you'd  talk  to  hiin,  for  I  can  do  nothing  with  him. 

Wal.  Why,  don't  you  perceive  the  poor  young  gentleman  is  deaf! 


DEAF   AS    A    POST.  13 

Sap.  Then  why  couldn't  he  say  so  at  once  1  But  I'll  soon  make 
him  listen  to  reason.  IBawlmg.]  Sir  !  this  ;.6  my  room  ;  this  is 
my  table  ; — this  is  my  party  ;  my  father-in-law,  and  these  two  young 
ladies [I'umtmg  to  Ihcm. 

Temp.  You  are  really  too  p  )lite.  but  since  you  insist,  I'll  place 
myself  between  the  ladies. 

[iiiscs — lakes  his  onm  chair  with  him.  Pushes  Sappy  on 
one  side  to  b..,  and  places  himself  between  ladies,  at  top  of 
table. 

Sap.  \_Gelting  round  in  front  to  r.   corner  of  table.']    That's  it 

exactly  ;  this  cover  was  laid  for  me,  mister,  and 

\_Holding  out  his  napkin. 

Temp.  [Taking  it  from  him.']  Thank'ee,  sir ;  thank'ee. 

Sap.  You'd  better  take  all — there-^plate,  knife  and  fork,  and  all ; 
that  will  be  the  shortest  way. 

[Thrusting  them  pettishly  across  the  table  to  Templeton. 

Temp.  Sir,  you  overwhelm  me  with  your  civility.-  I  cannot  think 
of  allowing  you  to  wait  on  me. 

Sap.  Don't  flatter  yourself  And  where  am  I  to  sit  1  where  am 
I  to  sitl     I  don't  like  it,  and  you  may  sup  without  me. 

[  Walks  about  sulkily. 

Amy.  Sir,  the  young  man  is  deaf,  and  he  appears  to  be  a  gen- 
tleman ;  you  had  better  let  him  sup  quietly,  and  take  a  seat  your- 
self 

Wat.  Ay,  ay ;  come,  take  a  place,  and  eat  your  supper. 

Sap.  [Seating  himself  r.  cor7ier  of  table.]  But,  Mr.  Walton,  I 
don't  like  it ;  you'll  allow  it's  disagreeable,  very  disagreeable — 
Sally  '.  I  may  say  damned  disagreeable,  and  especially  when  one 
stands  treat,  to  have  the  corner  of  a  table  sticking  in  one's  stomach. 
Sally  ! 

Sophy.  [Rising.]  Will  you  take  my  place,  sir] 

Sap.  No.  it  isn't  for  that,  only 

Temp.  Really,  to  compel  me,  who  am  a  stranger,  to  accept  the 
most  agreeable  place  at  table,  is  an  instance  of  politeness,  that — ■ 
and  the  manner  of  doing  it — the  delicacy,  the — believe  me,  sir,  I 
shall  not  easily  forget  it. 

Sap.  Poh  !  humbug  !  you've  nothing  to  thank  mo  for,  if  you 
could  hear  all.  Sully,  a  jilate  ;  but  you  might  wait  for  .'ne  at  least 
— hff  gobbles  like  an  ostrich  ; — am  1  to  have  a  plate,  while  there's 
any  thing  to  cat  1 

Sally.  Lord,  sir,  you  bawl  as  if  the  house  was  on  fire.  What  is 
it  you  want  ] 

Sap.  What  do  I  waiitl  why,  since  deafy  has  taken  my  jjlate,  lay 
me  another.  [Sally  goes  for  one,  l.  table. 

Temp.  This   certainly  is   one  of  the   best  inns  I  ever  put  up 

At. 


J  4:  DEJLF    AS   A   POST. 

Sap.  And  not  dear,  as  you  think ;  but  you  shall  sec  that,  mj 
boy. 

Sail}/.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  there's  a  plate,  a  r. 

Sap.  What  are  you  laughing  at!  I've  no  notion  of  servants 
laughing. 

Sally.  I  am  laughing  to  think,  what  haste  you  must  make  to 
overtake  the  rest  of  the  company  ;  and  as  you  are  to  pay 

Sap.  Pay  !  yes,  I  know  I'm  to  pay.  1  pay  for  myself,  and  three  ; 
but  I'm  not  going  to  pay  for  a  fellow  I  never  saw  before,  mind 
that. 

Wal.  Shame,  shame  !  do  you  imagine  a  gentleman,  as  he  evi- 
dently is,  will  allow  you  to  pay  for  his  supper! 

Temp.  Here  is  an  excellent  capon ;  allow  me  to  help  you, 
ladies. 

Amy.  Well,  Mr.  Sappy,  though  the  gentleman  be  deaf,  he  does 
the  honor  with  infinite  grace. 

<S'fl^.  That's  right,  praise  him  into  the  bargain. 

Temp.  I  beg  pardon,  madam,  I  believe  you  spoke. 

Sap.  She  said  your  conversation  is  very  agreeable,  he  !  he  ! 
he! 

Temp.  Very,  very  !  but  it  cannot  last.  It  would  have  been  more 
seasonable  a  month  later. 

[Sappy  loohs  at  a  piece  of  capon,  and  as  he  is  about  to  stick  his 
fork  in  it,  Templeton  takes  it. 

Sap.  There  !  there,  again  !  the  very  bit  I  had  set  my  heart  on, 
and  the  best  bit  in  tlic  dish.  Though  he's  deaf,  hang  me  if  he's 
blind. 

Sophy.  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !  all  this  ill  humor  about  the  wing  of  a 
capon  ! 

Sap.  It's  the  only  part  of  the  creature  I'm  fond  of. 

Amy.  Let  me  give  you  a  leg,  sir. 

Sap.  Keep  your  legs  to  yourself,  Miss  Drumsticks — [  Walks  away 
from  table  ] — and  I  stiind  treat  too — he'll  put  mc  in  a  passion — I'm 
in  a  fever  ! — 

Wal.  Come,  come,  sit  down. 

Sap.  [Sits,  and  batols  tn  Templeton's  ear.]  I  say,  my  man,  I'd 
advise  you  to  punch  it. 

Temp.  Punch,  or  any  thing  else  you  please;  you,  perhaps,  are 
acquainted  with  the  taste  of  the  ladies. 

Sap.  He !  he !  he  !  that's  capital !  at  any  rate,  you  make  us  a 
little  sport. 

Temp.  Port  be  it,  then — a  bottle  of  Port — good  old  Port — 
l_Exit  .S.\LLy,  K.]  "To  be  placed  to  this  gentleman's  account,  and 
mine. 

Sap.  [Starting  bolt  ■upright.']  Oh !  stop,  I've  nothing  to  do 
with  wine — I'm  in  for  seven  shillings  a-head  already — Port's  too 
lear 


DEAF    AS    A    POST.  15 

Enter  Sally,  with  a  hottlt  of  Port,  which  she  puts  on  table,  r. 

Temp.  [Rising. 1  Sir,  I  stand  corrected — a  bottle  of  Madeira. 
[Exit  Sally,  r.]  As  a  stranger.  I  waited  for  you  to  propose  it,  as 
you  have  done,  pnd  thank  you.  We  have  here  united  beauty, 
[Bowino-  to  the  ladies,]  urbanity,  [To  Walton,]  good  humor  and 
wit;  [To  Sappy,]  and  a  glass  of  generous  wine  will  not  destroy 
our  relish  of  it. 

Enter  Sally,  xoith  another  bottle,  r. 

Sap.  Mind  now,  Sally  ;  mind,  deafy  called  for  it,  and  deafy  may 
pay  lor  it ;  I'll  not  drink  a  drop. 

Salli/.  It's  put  down  to  your  bill,  sir,  and  you  may  settle  with 
the  gentleman  about  that. 

Temp.  [Fills  for  the  ladies,  Walton,  a>id  himself  and  sa-i/s  to 
Sappy.]     You'll  join  us,  sir. 

Sap.  [Fills  a  bumper,  sivalloivs  it  in  a  passion,  shaking  his  head  at 
Teimpleton]  I  wish  the  devil  had  taken  you,  before  ever  you  came 
here. 

Temp.  Thank  you,  sir  ;  the  same  to  you. 

Wal.  May  I  inquire,  sir,  whether  your  loss  of  hearing  was  oc- 
casioned by  an  accident! 

Temp.  No.  sir ;  purposely,  and  on  an  affair  of  importance. 

Sap.  He  !  he  !   he  !   that's  it — there  he  is  again. 

Temp.  Indeed,  I  may  say  that  the  affair  which  has  brought  ma 
down  here,  is  one  of  very  deep  and  serious  importance. 

Wal.  O,  sir,  I  beg  pardon — I  inquire  no  farther. 

Temp.  My  father  !  no,  sir,  no,  it  is  my  uncle.  The  fact  is,  he 
would  marry  his  daughter,  my  charming  cousin,  contrary  to  her  in- 
clinations— but  my  uncle  is  a  good  man,  and  I  hope,  by  my  inter- 
ference, to  prevent  this  match. 

Sap.  I  may  as  well  eat  my  supper^  though.       [Runs  to  the  table. 

Temp.  My  cousin  is  an  angel !  But  the  man  my  uncle  intends 
for  her  husband  is  a  blockhead  ;  and  if  on  my  arrival,  the  said  block- 
head should  dispute  the  lield,  it  is  my  very  tixed  intention  to  snip 
off  both  his  ears. 

Sap.  \_About  lo  drink.]  You  seem  to  make  nothing  of  snipping  a 
man's  ears  oil". 

Temp.  [Filling  a  glass."]  Yours,  sir,  with  all  my  heart. 

Sap.  Mine  ! 

Temp.  [Filling  again.]  AVith  the  greatest  pleasure  ;  I'm  no 
flinchcr ! 

Sup.  [Be sinning  iii  a  venj  loiv  tone,  and  gradually  lowering  it,  al- 
most to  a  whisper.]  If  I  thought  you  meant  to  be  rude — Dam'me, 
eir-'I'd  knock  you  diwn,  Dam'me — There  you  see,  ladies,  I'm  not 
to  b'^  pui  iii)on. 

Amy.  Sophy,  shall  we  retire?  it's  late.  [All  rise  except  Temple- 
ton  J  [Exeunt  Sophy  and  Amy,  l.  2  e. 


IG  DEAF    AS    A    POST. 

Temp.  Is  supper  ended  1 

Sap.  Oh!  you  had  better  begin  again.  But,  I've  scarcely  eaten 
a  morsel.     \.Aflcr  a  little  reflection.'^  Sallj' !   Sally  !  come  quick. 

Sally,  ^^'ell,  sir. 

Sap.  Fetch  the  bill,  Sally — run  :  now,  you  deaf  dog,  we  shall 
Bee  how  you'll  like  paying.  [Exit  Sally,  r. 

Temp  \_Comes  forward.']  Before  we  separate,  I  suppose,  wo 
must  draw  our  purse  strings.  The  wine,  sir,  is  understood  to  be 
our  affair. 

Sap.  Oar  affair  !  your  affair  if  you  please.  You  called  for  it,  and 
you  must  pay  for  it. 

Temp.  Certainly  not — certainly  not — it  was  so  understood.  This 
gentleman  [Pointing  to  ^Valton]  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

Sap.  {Tapping  his  pocket,  and  shaking  his  head  ]  I  pay  for  the 
supper  I  ordered,  but  hang  me  if  I  have  any  thing  to  do  with  the 
wine. 

Temp.  Well,  sir,  since  you  are  so  kind  as  to  insist,  even  lie 
it  so.  The  next  time  we  meet,  it  will  be  my  turn  to  furnish  the 
wine. 

Sap.  What  ! 

Temp.  Let  me  see,  that's  it.  [Taking  out  money. ]  The  travel- 
ler's supper,  at  half  a  crown  a-head,  and  sixpence  for  the  maid. 
There's  my  three  shillings. 

Sap.  The  supper  is  ordered,  at  seven  shillings  a-head. 

Temp.  Formerly  it  was  so.  but  everj'  thing  is  much  dearer  at 
present,  and  'tis  the  price  all  along  the  road. 

Sap.  [Taking  seven  shillings  from  his  pocket,  and  holding  them  to 
Templeton.]  Seven  shillings  !  You  can  see,  though  you  can't  hear. 
— You  are  to  pay  seven  shillings. 

Temp.  [With  an  air  of  astonishment.]  Sir! 

Sap.  It  is  seven  shillings  you  are  to  pay.' 

Temp.  How,  sir,  after  all  your  attentions,  insist  on  paying  for 
my  supper  too  ! 

Sap.  I  pay  for  your  supper !  I  ask !  I  appeal  ! — Oh,  here's  the 
landlady 

Enter  Mrs.  Plumply  and  Sally,  with  the  hill,  r. 

Show  him  the  bill,  Mrs.  Plumply.  The  supper  is  ordered,  at  seven 
shillings  a-head  ;  tell  him  that. 

Mrs.  P.  The  bill.  sir. 

Temp.  [To  Mrs.  P.]  Madam,  this  gentleman,  after  over- 
whelming me  with  civilities,  insists  on  paj'ing  my  share  of  the 
reckoning. 

Sap.  I  !  if  I  pay  for  your  supper,  I  v.'ish  my  supper  may  choke 
me — and  I  hope  that's  plain  enougli. 

Temp.  Ay,  ay,  if  ever  we  meet  again,  I'm  to — I  see  what  you 
mean.  [Retires  to  table. 


DEAF   AS    A    POST.  17 

Sap.  Confound  you,  I  wish  you'd  Jicar  what  I  mean. 

WaL  There's  paper  on  the  table,  the  best  way  will  be  to  write  io 
to  him 

JSap.  Deaf  as  he  is,  who  knows  whether  he's  able  to  readl 

Wal  Well,  Mr.  Sappy,  begin,  by  showing  him  you  are  able  to 
write. 

Sap.  Write :  that's  a  good  one !  I  suppose  old  Wak'em  didn't 
teach  me  running  hand  to  flourish  a  fish.  O;  Sally,  talking  of  writ- 
ing, bo  sure  you  put  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  a  good  pen,  and  a  lighted 
candle,  on  tlie  table  in  my  bed-room,  yonder,  for,  before  I  go  to 
bed,  I  mean  to  write  word  to  my  relations,  that  my  better  half  ia 
arrived,  he  !  he  !  he  !  my  better  half,  he !  he  !  he ! 

\^Duri7ig  /his  speech,  he  ivritcs  a',  table,  l.  v 

Temp.  Well,  since  the  gentleman  will  not  receive  my  share  ol 
the  charge,  there,  young  woman,  take  it  for  yourself, 

[Gives  the  money  to  Sally. 

Sap.  Stop  there  a  minute,  stop,  if  you  please  ;  you  can  read, 
perhaps  :  here,  read  this,  mister.  \_Gives  him  a  paper. 

Temp.  [^Reads.'\  ''  To  the  Deaf  Traveller" — whom  do  you  mean, 
sir,  by  the  Deaf  Traveller] — Sir,  I  put  you  to  your  feelings,  whe- 
ther it  be  delicate  to  direct  thus  : — "  To  the  Deaf  Traveller  V  Sup- 
pose, now,  you  were  the  greatest  fool  in  this  town,  would  it  be  civil 
in  me,  to  address  a  letter  "To  the  most  notorious  blockhead  in  the 
city  of  Winchester  !"  meaning  you! 

Sap.  That's  neither  here  nor  there — read,  sir,  read. 

[Poiriting  to  the  paper. 

Temp.  Well,  "To  the  Deaf  Traveller,"  if  it  must  be  so. 

Sap.  If  it  is  the  same  thing  to  you. 

Temp.  {Reads  '\  "  It  is  proper  to  tell  you,  you  are  not  at  the 
traveller's  table" — I  ask  a  thousand  pardons  !  had  I  known  that 
\_Looking  at  his  dress  1  "But,  with  a  private  party  in  my  private 
room."  \^To  Sappy.]  My  dear  sir,  had  you  explained  that  to  me,  I 
wouldn't  have  oftcnded  you  by  offering  to  pay  ;  to  be  invited  to 
supper  with  a  private  party  is  a  piece  of  civility  that 

Sap.  Will  you  go  on  with  the  letter  ■? 

[Lifts  Templeton's  hand. 

Temp.  [Reads.]  "  I  ordered  supper  for  four,  at  seveu  shillings  a- 
head,  and,  because  you  make  five,  and  because  I  never  pay  for 
folks  I  don't  know,  and,  because  I  don't  know  you,  you  must  pay 
seven  shillings  for  yourself  Your  servant,  Tristram  Sappy."  I'hen, 
after  all,  I  am  to  pay.     I'd  rather  it  should  be  so  ! 

Sap.  I'm  glad  you  think  so — so  hand  over  the  stumpy. 

Temp.  [Cumitmg  the  monei/  into  Mrs.  P.'s  hand.]  Seven,  the 
supper,  and  seven  for  my  half  share  of  the  wine.  iHcre  Sappy 
viakes  a,  grimace.']  There,  ma'am,  fourteen  shillings.  The  half 
crown  I  have  given  you,  you  may  keep,  my  dear.    [Retires  to  table, 

Sally.  Thank'ee,  sir,  thank'ee. 


18  DEAF   AS    A    POST. 

Sap.  There,  Sally,  you  may  thank  me  for  getting  you  that — for 
if  I  hadn't  given  you  a  supper  here 

Sally.  Come,  sir,  mistress  is  wailing  for  you,  to  settle  the  bill. 

Sap.  [Gaping.]  Father-in-law,  it's  time  for  us  to  go  to  bed. 

Wal.  iln  L.  corner.]  You  had  better  pay  your  bill  tirst. 

Sap.  Pay !  Why,  Mrs.  Plumply  knows  me,  and 

Wal.  You've  obliged  the  gentleman  to  put  down  his  share  at 
once,  and  you  ought  to  pay  j'our  own. 

Mrs.  P.  Yes,  sir,  so  we  ought  to  settle  the  bill  now,  sir. 

Sap.  Oh!  we  had,  eh!  iCrosscs  Sally  to  Mks.  P.]  Well,  this 
is  the  last  time  you  see  the  color  of  my  money,  mind  that.  If  ever 
I  spend  another  sixpence  at  the  Bell — twenty-eight  shilhngs,  isn't 
if! 

Mrs.  P.  [Holding  her  hand,  in  tchich  is  Templeton's  money.] 
And  seven  for  wine,  sir. 

Sap.  Twenty-eight,  and  seven  for  wine — I  wish  he  had  been  a 
— seven  for  wine.  Another  time,  Mrs.  Plumply,  what  folks  call  for^ 
folks  may  pay  for- -Thirty-three.  [Sally  stands  holding  out  her 
hand,  as  if  expecting  scmethmg.~\  Sally,  my  dear,  go  warm  my  bed, 
up  yonder — thirty-four — go  and  warm  my  bed,  I  tell  you,  because  I 
like  my  bed  warm'd  with  a  brass  warming-pan. 

Sally.  The  stingy  hound  !  [Exit  Sallt,  e. 

Sap.  Thirty-five — there.  [Walks  away  with  a  stupid  stare,  and 
counts  on  his  fingers.']  Thia  v^cn't  do  often.  [Exit  Mrs.  P.,  r. 

Wal.  Mr.  Sappy,  will  you  i  me  and  have  half  an  hour's  chat 
with  me  in  my  room!  [Templeton  rises,  and  comes  forward. 

Sap.  No,  thank'ee,  I  hav'n't  supped  yet,  and  I'll  amuse  myself 
here  for  half  an  hour,  he  !  he  !  he  !  I  shan't  want  a  chambermaid 
to  show  me  the  way  to  my  room,  he  !  he !  he  ! 

[Points  to  the  room  up  the  steps. 

[Templeton  boios  to  Walton,  and,  while  Sappy  is  placing  him- 
self at  the  tabic,  takes  a  candle  from  r.  side  table,  and  walks 
up  leisurely  and  unperceived  into  Sappy's  bedroom. 

Sap.  Good  night,  father-in-law. 

Wal.  Good  night,  son-in-law.  [  Crosses  to  l.]  Son-in-law  !  if  I 
could  but  contrive  to  get  rid  of  that  plaguy  fine,  I'd  bid  the  idiot 
good  night  in  earnest.  He  marry  my  girl !  Deafy's  worth  a 
thousand  of  him,  for  a  man  had  better  want  ears  than  brains. 

[Exit,  L.  1  K. 

Sap.  What  a  goose  my  father-in-law  is,  talking  to  himself  there, 
he's  astonished  at  my  cleverness,  I  dare  say. 

Enter  Sally,  with  warming-pan,  r.  ' 

Temp.  [Shuts  the  door .']  Ha!  [Gapes.]  Now  for  a  quiet  night"* 
rest. 


DEAF   AS   A   POST.  Ifl 

Sappy  takes  a  leg  of  a  fowl,  and  a  glass  of  wini — rises  from 
the  tabic,  and  dances  about  ridiculously,  humming  a  tune. 
Sally,  after  observing  him  for  a  short  lime,  and  laughing, 
taps  him  on  the  shoulder  as  he  reseats  himself. 

Sally.  The  deaf  gentleman  is  just  going  to  bed  in  your  room. 

Sap.  \_Starts  up,  and  eomcs  forward,  his  mouth  being  so  full  as  to 
prevent  his  speaking ;  he  makes  several  violent  and  thrcathcning  ges- 
tures. After  many  attempts,  he  exclaims.}  The  confounded — infernal 
^--eternal — [He  runs  up  the  steps,  threalemng  with  his  fist,  knocks  at 
the  door — receiving  no  answer,  he  knocks  louder,  and  louder  J  You 
are  in  my  room,  sir ;  come  out  of  my  room. 

Temp.  This  seems  to  be  one  of  the  quietest  houses  I  ever  was  in 
in  my  life — that's  a  perfect  luxury,  when  one  is  inclined  to  sleep, 
ha  !  [  Gapes. 

Sap.  iKnocks.']  Hallo  !  it's  my  bed — if  you  turn  in,  you  must 
turn  out.  iKnoeks. 

Sally.  Sir,  you'll  wake  all  the  house. 

Sap.  What  do  I  care  whether  other  people  sleep  or  not,  when  I 
have  no  bed  to  go  to — I'll  break  the  door  down.  [Knocks  and  kicks.'] 

'Tisu't  wind,  Mr. 'tis  I,  Mr.  Sappy,  kicking  up  a  breeze  ;  give 

me  my  room,  and  be  hanged  to  you. 

Enter  Mrs.  Plumplv,  r. 

Mrs.  P.  What's  the  matter  here  1 

Sap.  The  matter  is,  that  this  everlasting  deaf  dog  has  block'd  me 
out  of  my  bed-room,  and  I  don't  like  it. 

Mrs.  P.  But,  you  mustn't  disturb  all  the  house. 

Sap.  That's  all  one  to  me. 

Mrs.  P.  But,  it  isn't  all  one  to  me,  sir.  Sally,  go  send  for  a 
constable. 

Temp.  After  all,  I'm  an  unfortunate  being. 

Sap.  There,  he's  talking  again. 

Temp.  By  day,  my  deafness  doesn't  much  signify,  but,  at  night, 
and  in  a  strange  house,  too  !  I  have  three  hundred  pound.s  in  my 
pocket-book,  and  the  doors  in  these  inns  may  be  blown  open  with 
a  breath.  1  might  be  easily  robbed  in  my  sleep,  for  a  thunderbolt 
falling  at  ray  side  wouldn't  wake  mo.  Ill  place  my  table  against 
the  door,  and  with  this  brace  of  double-barrelled  pistol.s,  [Sappv  re- 
tires  from  the  steps,]  loaded  with  slugs, — the  lirst  person  that  enters, 
shall  have  them  clean  through  his  head,  were  it  as  thick  as  the 
walls  of  Winchester  jail. 

[Sappy  advances  to  the   front  of  the  stage. 

Mrs.  P.  As  to  a  bed  for  you,  that  is  out  of  the  question  ;  but, 
you  may  take  the  run  of  the  house — you  may  lie  in  a  good  arm- 
chair. 

Sap.  I  can't  sleep  in  a  chair ;  it  gives  me  the  cramp. 


20  DEAF    AS    A    POST. 

Mrs.  P.  There's  nothing  else,  sir,  so,  while  you  are  making  up 
your  mind,  I  shall  go  to  bed. 

Sap.  Well,  then,  I'll  try  the  arm-chair,  Mrs.  Plumply. — [To 
Sally,  who  is  about  to  remove  the  dishes.} — Stop,  Sally,  don't  take 
them  away  to-night.  If  I  wake,  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  mouthful ;  and 
besides,  I've  paid  for  it. 

Mrs.  P.  Poh  !  poll !  I  can't  have  my  servants  kept  up  all  night 
Sally,  clear  the  things. 

Sap.  I  shall  never  sleep  so — [Turns  the  chair'] — nor  so.  [iff 
rises,  appears  lost  in  thought ;  then  suddenly  throws  off  his  coat,  and 
bursts  out  singingi — I  have  it,  I  have  it — tol  de  rol  ! — I  have  it — 
[He  removes  the  dishes,  <^c.,  and  places  the  lack  of  the  large  chair 
against  the  head  of  the  tabic  — the  cushion  of  the  chair  he  arranges  as 
a  pillow — then  Limes  out  one  candle.  All  this  time  he  is  singing  and 
hopping  about. — He  is  soing  to  extinguish  the  other  candle,  when  hi 
suddenly  stops.} — As  deafy  said,  there's  no  knowing  what  sort  of 
people  may  be  in  the  house  ;  and  I've  heard  of  robbers  who  some- 
times hide. — Oh  !  what's  thatl 

Enter  Crupper,  k.,  with  loot-jack. 

Who  are  you  ? — Oh  !  Mr.  Crupper — what's  the  matter  1 

Crtip.  Your  honor  will  take  off  your  boats  1 

Sap.  No.  my  honor  won't — I  never  do,  when  I  wear  shoes. 
That's  not  so  bad,  he  !  he  !  I  say,  Master  Crupper — lord,  what  a 
thought !  he !  he !  I  say. 

Crup.  Yes,  sir. 

Sep.  If  it  wasn't  for  his  pistols. 

Crup.  Sir] 

Sap.  Could  you — could  you,  (.speak  softly,)  he  !  he  !  he  !  Could 
you,  if  it  was  made  worth  your  while,  put  a  troublesome  fellow  into 
a  horse-pond  1 

Crup.  Not  if  he  was  very  troublesome,  sir ;  but  I  could  get  a 
couple  of  stout  fellows  to  do  it  for  me. 

Sap.  What  an  idea !  [Chuckling.']  Then,  I  tell  you  what :  have 
'em  ready,  and  if  you  hear  me  call  out  fire  !  murder  !  thieves  !  do 
you  only  take  the  troublesome  chap  that's  up  in  that  room,  and 
give  him  a  good  ducking ;  and  I'll  give  you — damn'd  expensive 
too. 

Crup.  What,  sir? 

Sap.  A  guinea,  I  don't  mind.  Four  times  seven  is  twenty- 
eight.  Seven,  tho  wine,  and,  one  pound  one  for  a  horse-pond.  I 
don't  like  it. 

Crup.  And  dang  me  if  I  do  it  without. 

Sap.  He  took  my  place, — eat  my  sujipcr^^— stole  my  bed  ;  yes, 
on  the  word  of  a  'squire,  I'll  give  it,  when  the  job's  done.  Let  me 
see.  [  Considering. 

Crup.  I'll  not  be  seen  in  this  myself;  I  may  be  made  to  pay  for 


DEAF    AS    A    POST.  21 

it ;  so  I'll  give  two  of  the  young  recruits  in  the  kitchen  a  crown  a 
piece.  They  may  be  oft'  when  the  job's  done,  and  I  shall  pocket 
eleven  good  shillings — money  down. 

Sap.  Well  ;  revenge  is  sweet.     But,  you  mustn't  blab. 

Cru'f.  No,  I  never  tell  tales  of  myself.  He  shan't  know  who 
did  it. 

Sap.  I  shall  be  a-bed,  you  know.  Pretend  to  know  nothing. 
IGives  a  gui7iea.'\  Oh  !  good,  isn't  it  1 

Crup.  \_Taking  guinea.'\    It  looks  as  if  it  war — mum,  your  honor. 

\_Exit  Crupper,  r. 

Sap.  Mum  !  your  honor  !  I  like  to  be  called  your  honor  !  Dear 
me — I  shall  now  be  even  with  that  deaf  rascal.  But  I  must  pretend 
to  go  to  bed  here  ;  and,  when  he  pops  into  the  horse-pond,  I'll  pop 
into  my  room.  \_Bcgms  to  arrange  bed.'\  What  a  rage  Deafy  will  be 
in — a  horse-pond  !  Suppose  he  should  call  me  out.  Ergo,  he  must 
get  out  himself  first,  he  !  he !  he  !  that's  not  bad  !  I  shall  be  quits 
with  you — you'll  snip  off  my  ear  ! — couldn't  stick  a  fork  in  a  capon 
wing,  but,  oft'  it  flew  to  Deafy — wing,  flew,  that's  not  bad.  Good 
night,  you  old  poacher.  I'll  wait  till  I  think  he's  asleep  before  I 
give  the  signal ;  and  then,  while  I  snore,  they'll  think  me  quite  in- 
nocent. I  look  like  an  innocent,  with  this  napkin  for  a  nightcap. 
Good  night,  Deafy ,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  a  wet  night,  when  you're 
in  the  horse-pond — that's  not  bad.  And  if  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst,  I  can  but  go  to  law,  and  prove  I  did  it  in  my  own  defence. 
\_Lies  down.  During  the  above,  Templeton  comes  down  stairs  softly, 
takes  Sappy's  candle,  and  goes  off,  l.]  There,  I  shut  my  eyes  ;  Good 
night. — Eh  !  why  the  candle's  gone  out  all  of  itself.  I  don't  like 
that.  This  is  the  room  they  brought  the  dead  man  into,  that  was 
hung  for — what's  that  1  I  don't  like  being  in  the  dark  ;  I  may  see 
something.  [Feels  about — pushes  the  hair  from  his  head — nearly 
falls,  rises  and  comes  forward.]  O  Lord  !  It's  nothing  but  myself. 
I  can  see  Deafy's  light  through  the  window-curtains — and  the 
door's  open.  Gad,  I'll  peep — but,  the  pistols.  Well,  if  he  stirs, 
I'll  give  the  signal  directly.  iGoes  up,  and  looks  in.]  Nobody  here  ! 
he's  off"! — he's  robbed  the  house.  I  said  he  was  a  thief  at  first — 
horse-pond  ;  dam'me,  he'll  be  hanged.  It's  time  to  alarm  the  family, 
indeed — murder  !  fire  !  thieves !         [  Goes  in,  bawling,  room  door,  c. 

Enter  Crupper,  and  two  men. 

Crup.  There,  up  there.  Don't  mind  what  he  says — take  him 
out — chuck  him  in,  and  be  off  as  fast  as  your  legs  can  carry  you. 

[They  go  v])  into  the  room. 
Sap.  Why,  is  the  house  dead  1  murder'   fire!   thieves! 
Crup.  Oh,  they  be  coming,  never  fear.  [Exit,  K. 

Sap.  Why,  what  dy'e  mean  1     It  isn't  me. 
1st  Man.  Yes,  we  be  to  take  a  troulicsome  fellow. 
Sap.  Tliieves  !  fire  !  murder !  [As  they  i,arry  him  off,  l. 


22  DEAF    AS    A    POST. 

ETiter  Mr.  Walton,  l.,  Mrs.  Plumply  aJid  Sally  Mags,  ipitk 
candles,  r. 

Mn.  P.  \Miy,  what  is  the  matter  1 

Wal.  To  run  oft'  with  my  daughter — a  villain.  I  was  so  sick  of 
his  thick-headed  rival,  that,  if  your  friend  had  asked  me  fairly  for 
her,  I  don't  think  but  I  might  have  consented ;  but,  such  conduct 
as  this  deserves  a  horse-pond. 

Enter  Crupper,  s. 

Crup.  He's  got  it  by  this  time.     Will  you  stand  blame  1 

lAside  to  Walton. 
Wai.  No  !  has  he  1     That  I  will.  lExit  Crupper,  r. 

Sappy,  without,  l. 

Sap.  I  don't  like  it.     It's  not  proper 

Templeton,  eyitering  with  Sappy,  l.  1  k. 

Temp.  Hark'ye,  sir,  I've  generously  saved  you  from  the  horse- 
pond  you  meant  for  me ;  and  now,  you  must  either  give  up  the 
lady,  or  answer  in  the  field,  for  what  I  overheard  of  your  veiy  kind 
intentions. 

Sap.  I  don't  like  the  fields. 

Wal.  Where's  my  daughter  1 

Sap.  What,  arn't  you  deaf! 

Temp.  No,  sir;  but  ready  to  answer  any  questions  you  may 
choose  to  put. — Your  daughter,  sir,  is  here ; 

*  .  Enter  Sophy  and  Amy,  l.  1  e. 

and,  though  she  agreed  to  meet  me,  with  her  friend,  refused  her 
hand  until  you  give  consent.  Yours,  sir,  iTo  Sappy,]  I  cannot 
doubt  of,  as  5'ou  know  the  alternative. 

Sap.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  the  lady  quizzes  me,  and  I  don't  like 
to  be  quizz'd  ;  and,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  fine  of  five  hundred  pounds, 
which  I  must  pay  if  I  refuse 

Wal.  0,  no  !  I'll  forgive  the  five  hundred  pounds,  sooner  than  she 
shall  wed  a  fool ;  and,  when  Captain  Templeton  proves  himself 
worth)' 

Temp.  Sir,  I'll  endeavor.  The  permission  to  do  so  makes  me  so 
happ3',  that,  since  your  folly,  Mr.  Sappy,  has  done  so  much  more 
for  me  than  any  of  my  own,  I'll  pay  your  supper  bill. 

Sap.  Wine,  and  all  ! 

Temp.  And  invite  you  to  my  wedding-dinner. 

Sap.  Will  you.  indeed  1  Then,  to  show  you  I  bear  no  malic3, 
I'll  sup  and  dine  with  you  as  often  as  3'ou  please  ;  and  besides  that 
— Oh!  what  was  I  going  to  sayl — oh! — if  certain  people  havo 


DEAF    AS    A    POST.  23 

perceived  any  little  fault  in  certain  people's  conduct,  which  have 
served  'em  to  laugh  at,  this  evening — why — why,  as  we've  made 
our  follies  as  short  as  possible,  I  hope  they'll  come  before  long,  and 
laugh  at  them  again. 


DISPOSITION  OF  THE  CHARACTERS  AT  THE  FALL  OF 
THE  CURTAIN. 

Sally.         Temp.         Sophy.         Sap.         Mrs.  P.        Old  VVah 
ft.  a.  L.m 


3  1205  02089  3580 

UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A  001  424  507  0 


